Maritime
by That Lone Nightingale
Summary: The most interesting observation made, was of the scaled, fish-like tail stirring in the waters the man-if he could be called such- suddenly sprung from. It caught the light with every languid sway, causing it to glisten a golden hue under the cover of the sparkling sea. Spock had never seen such a thing. His inability to look away said as much. {AU/Merman!Jim. Kink Meme Fill}
1. A New Hobby

Had Spock been human, a contented sigh would have left him at that moment.

Being the half-Vulcan he was, he allowed his equivalent of one; a slightly audible exhale through the mouth. The clear waters below swayed rhythmically, licking against the sides of the pier which held Spock. The occasional call of a gull cut through the sea-scented air. Not a cloud dotted the vibrant blue skies of Earth, allowing the cool bodied Vulcan to keep comfortable in the sweltering sunlight. It all put a spell of meditative ease over Spock, one he hadn't achieved since his arrival five point two days ago.

It was his mother's sudden prompting that brought him here. ("Spock, you should visit grandpa with mommy!" "Mother, again, I am not a child. I would greatly appreciate you not using that tonality with me." "…I'll stop if you come. It'll make mommy happy.")

Amanda always took whatever chance she had to visit her home planet. His father would go with her now and again, and Spock himself had met with multiple members from the Terran side of his heritage. Over the years, however, his devotion to his studies kept him occupied while his father's duties as Ambassador had always kept his presence irregular. The amount of time he spent with Amanda had decreased as the years went on. A fact that he, inwardly and discreetly, found mildly disconcerting.

Previous times where he'd declined, his mother graciously accepted his refusal, but the blatant disappointment grew more prominent on her face with each turned down offer. She was used to it by then, but he knew she was lonely-even if he supposedly to have no grasp on the emotion himself.

That is why Spock found it logical-(That, and having his mother end her use of 'baby-talk' lest another heard her)- to make use of his allotted time off to join her. It was a plausible solution to quell the stir of emotion within him and to satisfy his mother; the added warmth in her smile made his choice all the more valid.

Although, he had miscalculated the degree of…enthusiasm of his human relatives. As simple as the act of hugging appeared, it placed a hard strain on a touch telepath-on Spock, who normally required fifteen point six inches between himself and surrounding persons.

And, also, the onslaught of masses of very openly emotive humans in general.

Tactile creatures. Very tactile creatures _everywhere_.

To sum things up, regardless of the Vulcan's previous trips to Earth, -which were far and few in between-, the stark contrast between its inhabitants and those of his own home planet would always present a strain upon him. He was graciously thankful for his mother at certain moments. Ones like when Melvin, his grandfather, made motions to shake his hand, forgetting a Vulcan's stand on physical contact. Especially concerning their hands. A very awkward situation, as Amanda put it.

Trips out to shops and several venues proved tedious. The streets overflowed with people; roared with their simultaneous conversions and rushing about. It was a reoccurring event for someone to bump into Spock now and again. Spare, loose thoughts would invade his mind and linger depending on their intensity. And, he learned, humans illogically focused an unreasonable amount of energy mulling over mundane things. It was so bad that Spock found himself pressing his fingers against his temples.

Some would even touch him purposely; tapped his shoulder, gawked, and questioned if he was really Vulcan. Which Spock thought the fact was obvious, but his response of, "Clearly. Perhaps, if you are doubtful of your observation skills, an eye exam would be advisable." gained negative reactions. They only added to his headaches.

Extra meditation assisted in fortifying his psyche barriers, yet did not keep all the outside, blaring emotions and thoughts from his notice. Human did not feel as deeply as Vulcans...but they certainly felt 'loudly'. It made relaxing difficult, even with him closing himself off more in addition to his mothers' efforts. He was simply unused to the poignant world.

* * *

Then, Melvin suggested fishing.

"It's always been a good stress reliever for me. Seeing as how you've been looking _subtly_ constipated for the last few days, I thought you should give it a shot," Melvin had explained while showing him the mechanics behind assembling and working a fishing rod, looking bemused at Spock's raised eyebrow and muttering of 'Interesting'.

When Spock mentioned his body's proficiency and that his regular flow of waste disposal wasn't hindered by 'the clogging of his bowels', Melvin tossed back his head and outright laughed.

* * *

Spock lightly pressed his index finger against the thin fishing line, regarding the rod before casting it for the tenth time that afternoon.

He'd been highly curious about how it could be considered relaxing beforehand; casting out a hooked line, waiting with varying probabilities of catching marine life forms, and, once that was finally achieved, releasing them back to the sea, then repeating the process all over. Spock initially believed it an unnecessary harassing of aquatic organisms.

Now he truly respected the act of leisurely pursuit in the form of fishing. He even considered it cathartic. Spock also took the liberty to catalog the characteristics of multiple species of fish he'd caught into his personal research databases. It would be illogical not to take advantage of his new pass time, and he found it just as enjoyable.

And on days like the current one, wherein not a single nibble could be felt at the end of the line, Spock just silently reveled in the solitary-physically and mentally-peace. Fishing rod loose in his hand, straight posture slightly slackened, and feet dangling from the wooden pier.

Inclining his head, Spock turned his skyward gaze to the calm waters below. With a calculated pace he slowly reeled in the line, watching the ripples caused by its disturbance break across the surface. For some unknown reason, he followed a particular chain of them until they ended against a cluster of jutting rock formations.

It was then that he saw him.

Arranged in a relaxed manner atop the rocks, a human male lay.

Completely nude.

Or, that is what Spock deduced-for the angle of the rocks blocked his view southward on the man- as he drew his eyes up the display of sharp hip bones, up the smooth and well-toned expansion of sun-kissed flesh, to the enticing arch of a craned neck and the taunt muscles within arms folded beneath a head of golden-brown hair.

Twin brows rose and disappeared above Spock's fringe.

Attention totally ensnared, Spock watched, transfixed, as the man exhaled and tilted his head towards him. The excellent range and clarity of his eyesight provided Spock with a clear view of his unexpected company's closed eyes, and the thick lashes holding water droplets against his cheekbones.

Why hadn't he heard him swimming? The area which Spock fished was deserted, save for him. He would notice another's approach. The questions roused within his mind, though Spock vaguely gave it any attention. He would've been disturbed by his lack of care, but the stranger's eyes were opening.

A pair of ultramarine eyes, so unbelievable blue that they rivaled the water filling the space between them, caught his slightly widened ones. Spock became dry mouthed, the sensation of something odd buzzing in his side. He held the stranger's stare, with what he hoped was a stoical guise.

That guise slipped, however, when the man gave Spock a dazzling smile; brilliant white teeth and all. The result was an almost visibly stunned Vulcan with a questionable feeling in his stomach likened to a bundle of hectic knots.

Before the feeling could pass and Spock fixed his minor slip up, the man was gone. With a flash of gold and a splash as he plunged back into the sea. After five minutes, Spock still kept his eyes glued to the spot atop the rocks.

To say he was intrigued would have been a grievous understatement.

* * *

Yay for first chapters. Not sure how long this is going to be, but chapter two is already done. If any mistakes are found, please let me know.

Reviews would be looovely.


	2. First Impressions

Once again, Spock mused on Earth's tactile creatures.

Earth's very invasive, tactile creatures.

More specifically, the one currently leaning up across his lap; with a hand rising with purpose towards Spock's face and the other finding purchase on his right leg. Had he not been so momentarily stunned by the boldness of this strange person, he would have pulled away immediately. The degree of his surprise was so great, he dropped the fishing rod. There was an eighty-three point five chance that Melvin would not take him losing his equipment lightly.

"Oh wow," The man spoke, fingertips ghosting along Spock's ear. His voice held an opulent air to it that smoothed right over Spock's senses. The light contact of fingertips upon his ear tingled. Spock suppressed a shiver. "They _are_ pointy. Huh, never seen that before."

The most interesting observation, however, was the scaled, fish-like tail stirring in the waters the man-if he could be called such- suddenly sprung from. It caught the light with every languid sway, causing it to glisten a golden hue under the cover of the sparkling sea. Spock had never seen such a thing. His inability to look away said as much.

"Quite unusual…," Spock murmured. Meeting the now apparent non-human vibrant eyes, he lightly took a hold of his wrist, tugging his hand away. He felt a frown pull at his lips when the man simply crossed his arms over Spock's lap. However, the action seemed to ground the Vulcan; he had still yet to pull away.

"Nah, just different."

Tilting his head, Spock inclined a brow in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Hands gestured to his head, and then carded together above his thighs. "Your ears. They're not 'unusual'. I actually find them cute. Hell_, you're _cute."

His personal space was then invaded even more. The creature rose up, palms pressed on either side of Spock's thighs, causing the Vulcan to lean back. The man followed. Their chests nearly touched, and Spock's hasty shuffle backwards was the only thing that signaled his surprise and-oddly- minimal discomfort. In fact, the gasp that left him at the feeling of layered scales rubbing against his knees seemed to be a positive response, as he halted in his retreat.

Something was not right. With this creature, this situation, and Spock himself. The insistent tugging he felt since lying eyes on…whatever he was. It was some form of attraction; strong and growing the longer he kept company with this forward, oddly curious person. It was something he was taught not to acknowledge, to feel, along with any other emotion, yet it was there and impossible to ignore. What perplexed him the most was; why so suddenly like this? Perhaps it had something to do with the cause of it all?

The male noticed his silence, and took it as permission to place himself between Spock's spread legs. Water droplets peppered down and soaked Spock's tunic as tan arms braced along his sides. The tail in place of legs came into better view, meshing perfectly with the human looking flesh of his waistline and trailing down with transparent, thin fins fanning out at its end. Again, Spock had difficulty looking away from it.

Situated as though the most practical place was hunched over top of a Vulcan, he stared down at Spock with curiosity and fascination. Spock, at a loss of what to do and unable to draw himself away, continued their conversation to give his mind a moment to function properly.

"You misinterpreted what I was referring to."

"Hmm?"

"When you spoke of your…appreciation for my ears, you thought my earlier comment was related to them. It was not, as it is normal for them to be shaped that way, and I was actually regarding the fact that you are not quite human."

Something swatted at his foot, then hit the deck of the pier with a wet _smack_. "What gave it away? The tail, or my devilish good looks?" The man smirked, shifting to prop up on an elbow, resting his chin in his hand. The other moved to fiddle with a green tinged ear. He gave a mock pout when Spock removed his hand.

"The former of the two," the Vulcan nearly grumbled. Appealing or not, it still felt uncomfortable being touched so freely.

"Well I figured the tail would be a dead giveaway...and an answer to that question in your eyes as to what I am."

When Spock merely blinked, the man frowned and arched an eyebrow.

"You know…creature of the sea, half mortal half mackerel…keeps lonely seamen company, often accused of luring them to a sweet, watery grave?" Spock spotted the tail waggle just over the man's shoulder, as if for emphasis. "Sirens are responsible for that, by the way."

The answer had clicked insistently in his mind, but he found it so utterly illogical that he hesitated. "Mermaids are creatures of myth and children's' books. They are not real."

A look Spock figured to be exasperation crossed the alleged mermaid's face. "Yeah, yeah. But what would you call this fine piece of mer_man_ right here?"

A silent moment passed. "Relatively pretentious." Spock replied dryly.

That got him a laugh, filled with such feeling that he felt it within his side, thumping with his heartbeat. The way the merman's eyes lit up also disrupted his breathing for a moment.

"You've known me, what, ten minutes and already the James T. Kirk charm is workin' on you."

"James T. Kirk charm?" Having people find you pretentious was considered an outcome of _charm_?

"Yup. Self-confidence in large quantities seems to grabs attention better. Keeps a person talking to you, keeps them interested…and mildly irritated. Everyone down there," He jabbed a thumb to the expansion of water behind him. " is so damn skittish and elusive it's _boring_. And really, can you say no to this smile?"

He winked and flashed Spock with another one of those grins. "If it wasn't apparent before, I'm James T. Kirk. But you can call me Jim."

"I am Spock." He heard himself reply with automatic decorum.

"Spock…Spooock." Jim crooned, drawing his tongue along his bottom lip as if Spock's name was something to savor. The Vulcan's eyes followed the action of their own will. "Again, different. But I like it! Pleasure making your acquaintance Mr. Spock."

"And yours…Jim. Through, I must remark on the unorthodox events leading up to our introductions." He replied, forcing his limbs to work and move, and his Vulcan sensitivities to take some semblance of control. Shuffling back, he put a good amount of breathing space in-between him and Jim. He wasn't sure if it was disappointment that flashed across Jim's face.

"Oh?"

"Indeed. It is not customary or polite to startle someone in way of greeting. Nor is blatant disregard for their personal space."

Jim contemplated. Then smirked. "You got me there. Honestly, I don't just randomly pounce up on strangers...often." Laughter danced in his cerulean eyes. "Especially ones with legs."

Spock found that rather hypocritical. "Yet you thought it appropriate to do such to me?"

"Yep." Jim said with a curt nod.

"May I inquire as to why?"

Suddenly the drawn-out sound of the rough wood against Jim's tail cut through the gulls' cries. His gaze never left brown eyes as he preformed a slow crawl up the Vulcan's very stiff form, like a climbing tide. Fingers crept along clothed thighs in minute exploration, then clenched and pulled. An electric pulse buzzed along the contact, tingled against the back of Spock's mind. Now nearly pressed upon a side vibrating with rapid thumping, an alluring invitation filled the merman's eyes.

Spock couldn't move nor breathe. He was trapped, lost at sea within Jim Kirk's gaze. Drifting along the currents of his voice.

"Because, I've heard first impressions make _lasting_ impressions. And I'd like you to remember me." The merman tilted his head, angled it so his lips, which slowly spread into a grin, were only inches from Spock's.

A hitching exhale was his only reaction, and Jim's grin widened as he asked with raised brows, "Wanna be my mate?"

* * *

Alluring Merman is alluring.


	3. In Exchange

Warning you now- there might be few errors in this. Bleh. Just glad I got it done! This is a long one.

* * *

When Spock returned from the beach, there was an unbalance to him. Something wasn't quite right. He was unfocused, like he did not see Amanda through the transparent door of the sunroom as she waved to him.

Or the door. With a loud _bang_ that had Amanda hopping up and Melvin gaping, Spock somehow managed to forget it was there, and ran face first into it.

Absently, Amanda registered a wheezing noise. Melvin was laughing.

The loud squeak of skin rubbing against the glass pane, as Spock slid off of it, shook Amanda out of her opened mouth shock. Shooting her father a look that shut him up, she rushed over to Spock, tugging her clearly disoriented son into the room.

"Spock!"

Spock blinked and looked down, as if just noticing her. "Yes, mother?"

"Are you feeling alright, sweetheart? You just…ran into the door!"

He glanced at the door, or more so through it, with a dazed gleam in his eyes. "It appears I did." He droned.

Amanda was extremely worried, hands fluttering over the blossoming of an olive tinged bruise upon his face. "Yes you did. And you've hurt yourself! Spock…what's the matter? What in world has gotten you so unfocused to point of running into things?"

He said nothing in response, and lightly Amanda queried, "Did something happen at the beach…?"

The change was instant. He removed her hands from his face, and seemed to collect himself. Focus flared back into his eyes, his posture snapped to its norm, and the dazed look his face held was replaced with a mask of stoic calm. But the color that adorned the tips of his ears and neck, that made his already green face darker gave him away.

"No, mother." He finally replied, with a tone that suggested he was trying to reassure her. She wasn't buying it.

"Something did happened..." She concluded, worry still pinched between her brows, but suspicion within her narrowed eyes. "You've gotten flustered all of a sudden."

"To be flustered would be illogical, mother."

"Flushed then." She said carefully. "You're pretty green there, son. Like lime skittles."

Spock again removed the hands patting along his face.

"During my odd moment of stupefaction, I did, in fact, collide with the door. Contusions are to be expected." He tilted his head. "And I find being compared to pieces of confectionery off-putting."

Amanda placed her hands on her hips, and stared up her son with an arched brow. She would have laughed, he had basically gotten a tad cheeky with her. He held her gaze a total of eight seconds before looking elsewhere. Then, he was suddenly apologizing and asking to be excused, to meditate. She couldn't say no to the openly beseeching look he gave her.

"Okay…Okay, go ahead. The spare candles and incenses are in the blue suitcase. Ah, and put some ice on that!"

After the click of Spock's door shutting was heard, she'd realized he never told her what happened. It seemed he successfully changed the subject and avoided telling her with one quick remark. Huh. Well, he wasn't in the clear yet, Amanda mused, not quite hearing her father as he asked after his fishing rod.

**{§§§}**

Over the next three days, it proved a challenge to keep his mother placated with his excuses.

For one reason, they danced along the lines of lying. Spock hadn't lied since his youth. After school days filled with antagonizing, his mother would provide a solace for emotions brought to the surface from harsh, verbal jabs from his peers. Amanda could relate to being an outsider, a target for crude remarks. She would tug him up into her lap or press him onto her side. "You are wonderful, Spock," She would say, affection in her voice and touch, while her heart thumping against his ear soothe the ache instilled by schoolmates. "A beautiful marvel, my son."

But when his mother became the topic of those insults and Spock lashed out with violence, a talk with his father persuaded him to be fully Vulcan. How would she feel, to see her child so violent, so uncontrolled? He had already shamed his father, he would not be able to handle such an expression on his emotive mother. So evenings spent in comfort at his mother's side, discussing his feelings, came to an end. His days were 'satisfactory' for all she knew.

Then there was reason number two: Amanda was very persistent. And upon receiving what she was after, the outcomes were…zealous at times.

The lack of affection from her child, who no longer allowed himself excessive physical contact and small laughs, may have also added to her resulting upset.

The moment she found out about the bullying, she sent a lengthy, informative, and…intriguingly worded email to his assailants' parents-whom had dealt all the blame onto Spock for lack of control, as she later found out. "The cause being the illogical farcicality equivalent to resentful and misbehaved _Terran_ adolescences," He heard her mutter, as her fingers flew across her PADD. His father also received a colorful, vociferous rebuke for not informing her about it. Even the servants were hesitant to meet her gaze, her ire like live fire in her eyes.

It only cooled when she finally caught a hold of Spock, who had avoided her the best he could. Instead of scolding him as he thought she would, she simply hugged him, saying he was amazing, her Spock, no matter what those 'little brats' said.

When he failed to hug her back, she only squeezed tighter, nearly cutting off his ability to breath. She had finally released him with a tear dampened jacket and the sound of her sniffling.

With all that considered, it was imperative to spare his mother the trouble and tell her before she thought he was closing her out again. This trip had reformed some of the connection lost between them during his engrossment with a Vulcan lifestyle of control and emotionlessness. To lose it again so soon was certainly not agreeable to him, and he was sure his mother would concur. Only to himself would he admit it put him in a state of melancholy at her unhappiness.

This all brought him back to his solution to the issue, but that too was a problem within itself.

He would tell her the truth. The full truth. That he was indeed unsettled. To the point of running into objects.

Due to a mythological creature, preferring to be called Jim, touching him, and propositioning him…to be his 'mate'. That he was both enthralled and appalled by his presence, its effect on him, and that it caused something within him to be amendable to Jim's ludicrous offer of "Something like a summer time thing" ("or Summer fling." Jim had mumbled nonchalantly against his ear. "Whatever you folks with legs call it.") That if it wasn't for years of well-managed control-making a _delayed _appearance- he may not have made his escape from Jim and his wandering hands when he did.

But, how, exactly, was he to go about doing so?

He could already imagine the disbelieving expression Amanda's face would hold. Spock still didn't quite believe it himself. He'd run over the event again and again. But his recall was faultless. There was nothing he could put the whole scenario off onto. Even the stray thoughts and images received from large crowds couldn't be blamed; he'd hadn't come in contact with any human other than his mother and grandfather for over a week. If he was to be successful in explaining to Amanda, he would have to come to terms with what was now a fact.

Mermaids were, evidently, real. Along with mer_men. _It was utterly fascinating. He wished to learn more about this creature thought to be found only in myths, to observe and learn. And, surprisingly, just to talk with him. It pushed his urge to return to the beach and seek Jim out. Spock admitted it; he wanted to see him again.

Yet, Jim's actions toward him threw Spock off. The flummoxed state he found himself in subdued his curiosity. Never had he felt so out of control before, so unable to hold back his reactions. He feared what that meant. Then there was Jim's proposal. He knew he could just refuse, but the thought roused a negative sensation. That, in turn, made the beach a very unfavorable place to be.

Should he risk going back? He was coming to terms that he _wanted _to, but again, that worry was there.

Seated cross-legged on his bed, incense smoke still wafting about the room, Spock gave in to the urge to drop his head into his hands. This was the first meditating session he managed to sit through and actually meditate. Disregarding the fact he still had unanswered questions. Amanda also noticed how much time he spent meditating, which encouraged her to press more for answers. Again, his thoughts were consumed with ways to explain his cause of discomfort to his mother.

Which lead him to remember that there was still Melvin's fishing rod to retrieve. Had Spock been human, he would have groaned in exaggerated despair.

Had Jim only been human…had this entire incident not have been so surreal…perhaps handling the situation wouldn't prove to be so difficult.

…

Would treating the situation as though Jim was human make it easier? Spock, to a degree, was familiar with humans, with their ways and mannerism. He'd have more statistics go off of, more identifiable variables to consider if this had been a normal incident, with a normal, two legged person…

All of a sudden, it hit him.

Inhaling sharply, Spock dropped his hands. His eyes were suddenly lit within his dimly lit room. Tangled thoughts and mixed feelings towards what he should do straightened out, into organized and simple cords of a plan. His original trepidation was thrown out the window as he came to decision as to what to do regarding Jim and what to say to his mother.

With unhidden enthusiasm he quickly changed out of his meditation robes before going to seek out Amanda.

**{§§§}**

"So, uh…_this_ is what was bothering you?"

"Yes."

"And you were just nervous about telling me because you didn't know how I'd react?"

"Affirmative."

Amanda blinked at her son, then blinked again. Spock raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently.

"Oh. Well this is it, I guess. Not as extreme as head-butting a glass door, I suppose."

A small quirk at the corner of his mouth signaled Spock's amusement, but he remained silent, still waiting for an answer.

Amanda swallowed.

"So you're willing to…I mean, I'm glad your doing something more, uh, _human_, honey, but I don't…hm." She turned away suddenly and called, "Hey, uh, dad?"

"Yeah?" Melvin's voice carried from the kitchen.

"Can you- Spock is having…he wants to… gosh darn it, hold on."

Amanda stumbled off to the kitchen, feeling like a bubble of glee, nerves, and awkwardness. So her son was okay. The whole running-into-the door-and-excessively-meditating-thing was all because of…oh. Oooh. It all just made sense now. She'd been so worried for the past few days and even considered telling Sarek about the whole thing. But it was good, all good! Spock was a man now so he could…god, it was all really awkward to think about, let alone talk about. But that's what her dear, sweet father was for, who was grinning like the Cheshire cat when she explained.

"Don't worry Mandy," He said, kissing her forehead before swaggering out to a slightly perplexed Spock, "I got this."

**{§§§} **

The next day, Spock was back at the beach, ready and calm, his pose reflecting his confidence. The constant adjusting of his knapsack strap was in no way an outward show of uneasiness. If he was, it would be over what would happen if he came across Jim again.

During the walk over he'd come to several decisions; an answer for Jim along with a proposition of his. He'd come to understand learning was best done through experience, and given the chance he should just go for it. (His mother's words.) After it was offered and either accepted or declined (Spock was hoping for a positive outcome.) he would search for Melvin's fishing rod. The…interesting conversation and words of wisdom he gave Spock was sure help in someway. He had to repay him for that.

He was cautiously placed several meters from the pier, looking over the expansion of water, eyes lingering on the jutting rocks, Spock tentatively made his way out across the pier, the old wood creaking under his light steps. The sound was almost ominous. He counted the minutes once he made it to the end of the deck, attention still holding to the water. Calls for the one he sought left him continuously showed how along with his apprehension, he was quite eager.

Fifteen minutes, seven seconds passed without a flash of gold in sight, but Spock was not discouraged. Having a whole shoreline to search, he left the pier, he walked along it. There was only the sand crunching beneath his boots, the lulling whispers of gentle waves, and he was at ease with the sounds of the ocean so unique to Earth. It worked to sooth his nerves. He almost did not mind that his reason for returning was nowhere to be found. Almost. Still, he kept close attention to the waters beside him.

Eventually his trekking brought Spock to a cluster of overlapping large rocks, that rose high and striking against the clear skies. Water crashing rose above the rocks, and echoed down to him. Interesting, Spock mused, tilting his head as he listened. Carefully climbing his way up, he was treated to the sight of high sloping cliffs circling together, creating a cove.

The nook was like a place all its own. Water fed into it from the ocean, yet it was clearer and calmer. Tall greenery topped the surrounding slant boulders, nearly brushing the tips of Spock's fingers as he made his way down. Varying seagoing avian life forms nested in hollows of the cliffs walls, giving small calls as he passed. Once he was at the bottom, centered in the cove, he discovered small pools created within the waters of it by large rocks and coral. Each was teeming with life and organisms, and held Spock's rapt attention.

Having found such a place, filled with marine wonders for him to observed, the cove was rapidly rising to become Spock's new fishing spot. Caught up by such thoughts, he nearly forgot the true reason for his venturing out so far in the first place.

That is, until a very distinguishable tail struck down onto the pool he was bent before, splashing the surprised Vulcan thoroughly.

Drenched and wide eyed, Spock looked up, meeting the striking eyes of James Kirk.

"Mr. Spock, is it always going to be this easy to sneak up on you?"

He was propped up on the rock opposite of Spock's position at the pool. Arms crossed with his chin resting upon them, the length of that golden tail curved down and around the rock, tailfins still submerged in the water. It still rippled from the splash, the sunlight reflecting its dancing patterns onto Jim's smooth, tanned skin, illuminating the blue of his eyes. They were electric, half hooded and framed with damp lashes, small droplets running like rivers in between them, down his nose, and lips. Lips that were tugged up into a lopsided grin.

Feeling his face go hot, Spock gave a quiet, "Jim."

"You actually came back," the response was colored with pleased surprise.

"I…I did." He spoke louder this time, tilting his head to see better through his soaked bangs. "You sound quite surprised, did you not consider the possibility of me returning?"

Jim's smile faltered before filling out again. But something dark cast over his eyes. Spock couldn't quite read what it was, as Jim turned his attention to the pool.

"Was there a possibility? From the way you ran last time I thought I repulsed you."

Spock's responding no left his mouth much faster and louder than necessary. But the urge to reassure Jim was illogically strong. He had not been disgusted by the merman. Mildly put off by his excessive touching, but far from disgusted. He knew that now. Spock was just disturbed by his reactions to the male, not the merman himself.

Jim was watching him, disbelief apparent on his face as he waited for Spock to continue. It was time to set his plan into play.

"No…" He began, inhaling deeply before moving closer. He was right before Jim's perch, giving what he hoped appeared to be an appreciative glance to his tail. "You do not repulse me, Jim. I assure you of that."

Cerulean eyes lit with interest and curiosity, before narrowing. Shifting, he leaned towards the Vulcan. "Then why'd you run?"

"During our first encounter, I told you it was not normal to invade others personal space." then with a hint of a smile, "Or startle them. My reaction was completely justified as was my course of action. If I were to do the same to you…"

"I'd be completely okay with it!" Jim sniggered. "But I see what you mean…maybe I was too grabby. My bad." His grin retuned, full and true. "Still, you could've just said no."

"Perhaps. But then I would not be here today in a more reasonable state of being…along with a answer to your offer and my own suggestion as well."

Jim sat up straight with surprise. A twitch rolled down the muscles within his tail and it curled in towards Spock, bumping into the backs of his legs. Exhaling sharply he was forced to shuffle closer, stepping one foot into the pool. Hanging halfway off the rock now, Jim was only mere inches from Spock. He'd been closer, that first day, his lips even brushing against Spock's. But this felt completely different; electric and magnetic with none of the negative feelings he had before. There was only his heartbeat, the smell of sea salt, Jim's vivid eyes and the smooth murmur of his voice.

"And what are they, Spock?"

Perhaps he spoke too soon. A nervous pit dug within his gut, fear of rejection sinking down into it. Voice slightly shaking he spoke, "I would very much like to know about you, Jim. Simply put, I find you fascinating and as such it is logical that I take this chance to learn from you all that I can. In return, I will be amendable to sharing any facts about myself, as well as…being your partner in a 'summer fling' and 'getting some'."

"Sooo, then your answer is yes."

"Yes, it is."

Jim nearly hopped from the rock. "And in exchange you just wanna know stuff about me."

"When put simply, yes."

A wide grin broke across Jim's face and foregoing his balance upon the rock, he clasps his hands on either side of Spock's head. He wouldn't fall because Spock was already steadying him, a firm grip onto his sides. The merman's fingers were not idle; they pushed through still damp hair, along slanted brows and over cheekbones before settling to stroke delicately pointed ears. Spock allowed the touch, only shivering and giving a shaky exhale at the look of wonderment upon Jim's face. Through the connection his touch created, Spock felt his curiosity, his excitement, and undertones of something he didn't quite understand, but had Spock's features turning even greener.

Slowly, very slowly, he brushed a finger along the few golden scales freckled along Jim's abdomen. Eyes widening in awe at the strange feel of them, like small shocks jolting through his fingers. Jim looked from his ears, meeting his eyes, but continued on drawing his fingertips along their curves.

Suddenly, he drawing closer, inches turning into centimeters, then millimeters. Limbs had to be adjusted; Jim wrapping his arms about Spock's shoulders, and Spock wrapping his around Jim's chest. Jim halted though, shaking with a bout of laughter, breath warm against a nearly pouting Vulcan's cheeks.

"Wait, wait. '_Getting some_?' Really?"

Spock flushed, and managed to breath out an utterance of Jim's name before warm lips were covering his own, and filling his mouth with the tang of the sea.


End file.
